


That Raunchy Time

by WincestSounds (Cammerel)



Series: Wincest Sounds [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Audio Format: MP3, Incest, M/M, Top!Sam, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/WincestSounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Audio of Sam and Dean having sex.  There is the fanfiction version of it here as well. You can read, listen, or do both at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Raunchy Time

**Song** **:** Wincest Sounds 2 - That Raunchy Time  
 **Aritst** **:** CarryonmyWincestSounds  
 **Fandom** **:** Supernatural  
 **Character** **:** Dean/Sam  
 **Rating** **:** Explicit  
 **Warnings** **:** Wincest, Incest, Top!Sam  
 **Artist's Notes** **:** Not sure if there's a name fer these in the world just yet, but if there is, tell me. Songfix, Fanmix, Podfic, I don't know.  


  
  


**Stream:**

**Length:** 3 minutes 19 seconds  
 **Download Link:** Sendspace - [MP3](http://www.sendspace.com/file/yucknx) (Click the baby blue bar below)  
 **Size:** 6.06 MB  
 **Tumblr Link:**[Here](http://carryonmywincestsounds.tumblr.com/tagged/WS2) ****

**Fanfic Version:**

The two stared intensely at one another, chests heaving almost simultaneously, muscles tensed up still, Sam clutching the Taurus tight within his fingers as he licked the spit from his bottom lip. His head dropped back slightly, tousled hair falling passed his ears, finally catching his breath as he smirked at Dean, "I think I'm hungry for it."

Dean only partially glanced around the room they were standing in, lit only by moonlight seeping in through the cracks, the windows, the missing sheets of drywall - glistening over torn portions of insulation as it spilled out from the four corners of the room.

The dirty, infected house they were standing in was shredded from one end to the other. It was worn down by weather and age, looting and abandonment, with torn up newspapers spread about - some soaked into the flooring by rain, bits of cushion stuffing from an old couch thrown hither and thither throughout every hall he'd been down so far.

He knew what his brother wanted, anyone with half a fucking brain could see it painted over the larger Winchester's face, _but here? Really?_ It wasn't the best candidate. But the way Sam was looking at him had Dean practically fucking weak in the goddamn knees.

"Hungry for what?" He asked tentatively, dropping the arm that held tight his sawed-off shotgun, insides still warm from it's recent unload.

"You know," Sam responded at once and Dean could, just barely, make out the outline of their duffel-bag in the corner by two little sturdy chairs, his unopened beer sitting at the foot of the left one, where they'd been camped out for nearly a full day, waiting on the spirit and tempting it as much as possible.

He could see, five yards from where they were now, on the opposite side wall, the busted, filthy mattress that made Dean's skin crawl, trying to imagine what had caused the dark, aged stain near the foot of it - blood, most likely. Probably a young girl's blood, barely eight, if he had to really think about it.

His shoulders almost slumped, exhausted at his brother's unusual amount of stamina, "Oh," He said, letting out a breath, "You gotta be kiddin' me."

Sam grabbed the back of his neck, fingers curling into the short hair and Dean's stomach lurched, his brother leading him back as he reached out.

"Sam-" Dean started, unsure, lips numb as he dragged his own gun over the floor, arms tired out from the fight - heavy as lead now, and he wasn't really sure if he was up for sex, but his cock was; the goddamn traitor was pressing against his jeans. Dean wasn't sure if Sam could see it but, even if he couldn't, chances were he knew it was there anyways.

The younger Winchester knelt, back bumping into a rickety little nightstand by the bed and he let out a heavy, collected breath. His hands dug into the hem of Dean's jeans, trying to pull him down as well and he could just barely make out the eyes staring up at him desperately, "Dean."

Dean stared at his brother, Sam's fingers tugging the jacket passed his shoulders and he nodded finally, letting his gun go down with it. He couldn't really say 'no' to his brother - he never could, and he was so fucking hard already, just thinking about it; the recklessness, the heat radiating off of Sam. He reached behind, flipping the loose flannel from his chest and letting it pool at his feet, covering the backs of his boots.

He moved away, grabbing the duffel-bag and pulling it over closer to the mattress, fists grabbing at, and lifting, Sam's shirt as he pressed dry, breathless kisses to his brother's stomach before lifting the cotton over Sam's head, shoving it down his shoulders, all three layers going down at once. His hands fumbled with his brother's belt and zipper, snapping the button, fingers just barely reaching into the hem of Sam's boxers.

Sam grabbed him up suddenly, pushing his chest onto the mattress and bending him over, yanking his jeans down his thighs as the younger Winchester reached into the pocket of the bag by their knees.

Dean breathed carefully, looking back and gasping tightly as Sam's leg rested hard on the edge of the mattress, the younger Winchester pulling up a condom and ripping it open between his teeth.

He could hear the blaring of police cars outside, his body shivering as Sam cleared his throat and moved in close, hips rubbing against Dean's backside and he recognized the cold, wet stick of the weak lubrication of the condom smearing over the crease of his ass.

Sam pulled back though, almost sighing in annoyance and Dean smirked, hearing his brother grab the lube and pop the top. Sam was eager, impatient, and likely annoyed with the fact that they couldn't just fuck and get it done. But, honestly, Sam preparing him was probably Dean's favorite part of sex, having his brother take the time, ease him up, make it comfortable for the both of them - _it was what Sam did best_.

He shuddered as he felt his brother's lubricated fingers probe inside of him, smoothing out his insides and spreading him open, wearing the ring of muscle into relaxation. He didn't need much, there were never really gaping hours between Sam's fingers and his own.

It was startlingly chilly in the worn-down house, getting impossibly colder each minute. Dean looked across the horrid mattress, fingers splayed out over it, bare ass in the air as he peeked through the chunks of wood on the far wall, almost able to see the outside, the blur of green grass, but unable to make out any more than that.

Sam was pressing into him carefully, the meat of his length forcing its way inside all easy and slick now, warm and firm, and Dean's cock trembled at it's mass.

The sudden gasp escaping his parted lips made way the moment he felt Sam fill him to the hilt. His brother was breathless as well, settled with his jutting hips pressed flush against Dean's backside, hands gripping him, holding him in place as his forehead rested on Dean's shoulder, pressing the shirt against his skin before he reached up and pushed the fabric up to Dean's armpits.

Dean swallowed as his brother pressed in even more, balls-fucking-deep inside of him, thumbs spreading his cheeks and his cock throbbed in anticipation.

"Okay," Sam breathed down his spine, "I'm in." He pulled out and plunged back in, eliciting sounds from the both of them.

Dean took in a sharp, drawn breath through his teeth, sweat beading over his face, and yet he was still chilled down to the bone, shivering at the cold perspiration building on his upper lip, tickling through his stubble.

Sam's dull nails dug into his soft skin, yanking him back onto his brother's cock, Dean's forearms sliding along the rough fabric below them. His hands scrabbled over the mattress, struggling for purchase and finding none. Breath escaped him in puffs, cold crawling up his back and yet his lower half felt like it was on fire, Sam's heated skin smacking into the back of his thighs.

His boots lost their gain on the ground, catching on a leaf of newspaper and ripping the bottom half of it away as Sam held him down. He was being nailed against the goddamn bed now, hips shoving almost painfully into the side of the metal frame, cock below, untouched and purpling in its desperate strain, slapping against the inside of his thigh with each of Sam's thrusts.

He reached back, taking Sam's hand - fingers lacing together as the larger man atop him pressed a wet kiss to the corner of his shoulder.

Sam lifted him more, heaving him onto the bed and mounting him, right arm slung under his waist, arching his hips up higher and rocking him back as they moved together, legs and arms sliding over the mattress.

Dean sighed loudly in relief as Sam's hand wrapped around his cock, pumping the swollen organ smooth and slow within the cants of his hips. Their bodies continued to work together, Dean's knees wearing their spaces into the mattress, body bowing as Sam fucked into him mercilessly, lips smearing over his sweated back before pressing another kiss to the cold skin.

Dean reached down, taking his cock from his brother and letting the younger Winchester settle both large paws on the sides of his waist.

He could hear Sam whipping his hair back from his eyes, pulling Dean more into his lap and the older Winchester adjusted his legs and arms to change their position slightly, "Yeah," Sam said, breathless and Dean felt his lips ghost over the shell of his ear.

They moved again, Dean pushing back as Sam thrust forward, hands drawing him back faster and faster as they drew close, **painfully** close. Dean nearly lost it as Sam's hand slapped against his waist, gripping the soaked skin and yanking him harder.

They were both shuddering and slowing, worn from the fight, worn from sex, and Dean was so **close** , so _tragically_ close, but he needed _more_. He turned, pushing Sam away and rolling onto his back, kicking his boots off, his pants following helplessly as Dean dragged his brother back over him and lifted his legs.

"Sammy."

The younger Winchester stared at him, slightly confused, hair soaked from sweat, matted to his face and Dean reached up, pushing it out of his eyes and taking Sam's hands, settling them on the backs of his thighs. His brother seemed to get the point at once, climbing over him again, pushing Dean's knees down and down, almost to the sides of his head.

Sam gasped as his hips dropped, cock slamming into the older Winchester and Dean could just barely make out Sam saying his name, breathless and ragged, weight baring down on him.

He wasn't really aware of the sounds they were making though, otherwise - how loud they were - all he could concentrate on was the intense brush of Sam's cock over his prostate, which nearly had him reeling; the stronger, taller, larger man shoving down into him was blaring, taking over.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said tightly as the air was pushed from his lungs, fingers dragging over Sam's shoulder as he nodded, trying to convey to his brother, to keep doing it the way he had been.

But Sam slowed, thrusting in lazy and drawling over that spot, causing Dean's legs to shake in response and he could swear he heard the smirk within Sam's gatherings of breath, the fucking bastard was **loving** this - collecting stamina, no doubt, as he slowly tortured Dean like the little sadistic fuck he was.

But goddamn, he knew it was going to be worth it, even if he hated it. And, probably, some of the spite came from knowing his younger brother could do this to him, control him like this, pads of his fingers just circling the head of Dean's cock once or twice, kissing the bow of his legs, catching beads of sweat between his lips, staring down at Dean like Sam could fucking eat him alive; and Dean would let him. Sam knew him too well, knew that he kind of liked being tortured and fucked in some god-for-fucking filthy abandoned house after a successful hunt.

He watched Sam lick his lips, grabbing the meat of Dean's thighs and shoving the older Winchester into the bed as Sam continued fucking into him again, pounds of muscle working together like a goddamn machine, a freight train slamming into his prostate, violent and bruising.

"Ah, you son of a bitch!" Dean could barely get the words to pass his lips, fighting through his teeth with each thrust, the words as rough and ragged as the mattress under his back.

He just made out the gasps above him, Sam breathing his name, coaxing his orgasm, saying it a second time as he pressed his dry lips to the underside of Dean's knee, the appendage shaking so much that Sam even paused to give him a surprised look.

He was thrusting more now, a jackhammer inside of Dean, causing horrible, almost pained sounds to escape Dean's lips, sounds he would've normally been embarrassed of if he wasn't so fucking turned on right now. He didn't care **what** he sounded like, it felt too fucking awesome to care.

Sweat from Sam's hair was spattering along his chest, practically pouring down, slippery hands holding him tight, the mattress protesting their sex so hastily that Dean wasn't sure who was responding faster. All he could feel was the heavy, powerful force of his brother, the painful burn of his lungs as more air escaped him, and the shuddering, trembling thrum of his body as he came.

"Sam!" Dean sat up, hands reaching out, grabbing the back of Sam's neck and pulling him down, their foreheads hot against one another as his brother's movements slowed and ceased, breathless and worn, but grinning as they kissed.


End file.
